Forewarning
by Arkeisios
Summary: Winona Way, third-year Ravenclaw, looks down in her teacup during Divination. The Grim? A lightning bolt? Who else can this be about but Harry Potter - after all, wasn't he the Slytherin's heir or Quirrell's murderer or something or other half the time, and the Wizarding World's darling when he's not? Winona doesn't know this, but she's got a knack for seeing the future... (OC/gen)
1. Prologue

**Prologue. How I Met Your Father**

* * *

It started with a teacup.

Abhorrently pink and despicably flowery, no, this teacup was not to be taken for granted. So reviled was this mere cup that drastic measures had to be taken against it. So drastic, her arm reached out and by a totally, completely, utterly mere chance of Fate, the hated thing dropped to the floor (its untimely doom perhaps foretold by the unnoticed Grim in its tea dregs).

Note the sarcasm when emphasizing the entirely accidental cause of this unfortunate event.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry, Professor! It just—it just happened! Like Fate."

Her voice reached over the shattering of the china teacup, loud enough to be carried across the classroom to the Divinations professor. Loud enough so it drowned out the sounds of her classmate's muted laughter at how she was blatantly lying, because everyone knew that she wasn't the type of person to let a cup—an expensive cup, at that—just fall by accident off a table from where it sat. It was obvious to pretty much everyone but the professor that she was lying her socks off, and that nothing "just happened" to that teacup, unless you count Winona Way as "just happened".

"Oh no, dear, it's quite alright. Fate acts however it chooses to, and I have foreseen the end of this particular teacup ages ago. Do go fetch another, Miss Way."

The professor's airy voice was about as truthful as a hinkypunk, which were not very truthful creatures at all. Everyone had pretty much accepted the fact that Professor Trelawney was a fraud by the time they exited their first class with the crackpot.

After the laughter had subsided, and Winona's incident with the dreadful, horrid teacup had long passed by forgotten, Winona finally got up from her seat to fetch herself another teacup. It was only sensible to prolong the inevitable, really, especially when the inevitable detailed of more Divination horseshit.

Here you may notice that Winona does not hold much affection for this particular subject. In fact, one may even go as far as to say that Winona despises all that has to do with it, only taking it because of the easy Outstanding it would merit. Of course, being a Ravenclaw, she's also taking Ancient Runes and Arithmancy because she has an image to uphold.

But the narrative is getting off track, here. Winona had just gotten up from her seat to find a new, preferably blue teacup to read her future with. Tea dregs, the thought of it! Who would be as barmy as to believe that they could see something in the leftover bits of a well-brewed cup of Earl Grey, Darjeeling, or even Orange Pekoe—if you like that sort of thing.

Thinking this, Winona shook her head as she made her way down the steps to retrieve a hopefully less gaudy and fluorescent kind of teacup. It was for this reason that she happened to completely ignore the Professor's spiel on how exactly one must interpret their dregs, as "the slightest of mistakes may cause misfortune". What also slipped by Winona was the homework assignment for next week—list six ways famous Seers may have made a slip-up in their interpretations of tea dregs that would lead to misfortune of their client. Later this would prove doubly useful, but there is a time for later and there is a time for now.

Having retrieved her plain blue teacup—in no way abhorrent nor flowery, she might add—Winona proceeded to fill her chosen cup with Darjeeling tea, fresh off Trelawney's kettle. Apparently special types of tea produce special types of dregs, and Darjeeling dregs are notorious for their bad omens. Of course, being the sensible sort, Winona did not believe this. She just figured Trelawney had an absurd fondness for the type of tea.

Properly seated, with a half-cup of tea grasped in her hands (Winona may or may not have been thirsty from the incense permeating the room, and may or may not have had a sip or two or ten), Winona noticed the Professor making rounds across the classroom, slowly but surely drifting her way towards Winona herself! Spurred on by the Professor's inevitable visit to her little table in the corner, Winona took it upon herself to bullshit her way out of this. With a deep breath, a sharp mind ready to fast-talk her way into a bad omen, and a swift prayer to any such deities that might be watching, Winona looked down to her tea dregs.

She looked down, and sucked in a sharp breath.

She looked down, and saw a Grim.

"The Grim! Miss Way has seen the Grim!" Professor Trelawney loomed over Winona's shoulders to peer with her round eyes into the offending teacup. The Professor suddenly appeared stricken—she began to shriek of "such an ominous figure of death and doom" and the like to the class, warranting their attention towards Winona. Some pitying, some sympathetic, some frightened.

Winona, pale and trembling, had her eyes locked on the teacup the entire time, almost as if she were unable to tear her gaze away from the inauspicious tea dregs. No, it was no longer the Grim—it was a lightning bolt, reminiscent to that of one Harry Potter's scar.

The Grim, and Harry Potter, and _the Grim_ —it was all Winona could think of. Her mind was racing, trying to interpret the meaning of this new revelation. Like a bolt of lightning, it struck her.

Harry Potter was in grave danger.

This was the start of her third year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Winona Way, a promising Ravenclaw who traveled alone. She was All-Seeing, observant and forewarning. She did not know this, but Winona Way's third year at Hogwarts was going to change her life.

* * *

 _There's no end-game romance in this fic guys, the title was a joke. Actually, for the time being, there is no end-game, period. I don't know where I'm going with this._


	2. Chapter I

**I. And so it begins**

* * *

On the ides of September, barely two weeks into the school term, Winona Way was in the library stacks. Again.

This was predictable behavior for Winona, Ravenclaw that she was, but what was entirely unprecedented was her location within the stacks. To be specific, the Divination bookshelves.

If any of my classmates would see me now, Winona moped, I would be a laughingstock in the dormitory. She could imagine it with vivid clarity: hushed whispers in the common room, contemptful sniggers in the hallways, and worst of all—the horrible ostracization from her entire House. She would be reputed as barmy as Trelawney herself! Winona would be the paradigm of disgrace, the epitome of dishonor, the personification of the besmirchment of Ravenclaw values.

This was the majority of the reason why Winona forgoed dinner in the Great Hall to sneak up to the library for secretive research. The memories of her first Divination lesson plagued her thoughts; try as she might, Winona was helpless towards the compelling fear of the Grim. Even the deep-instilled belief that Divination was the stupidest, most worthless subject taught at Hogwarts couldn't shake the omen's lingering horror.

Around Winona were literary works such as _Broken Balls: When Fortunes Turn Foul_ , _Beginner's Guide to the Mystic_ , _You and Your Inner Eye_ , _Predicting the Unpredictable: Insulate Yourself Against Shocks_ , and _Grim Ways to See the Grim: A Book of Bad Omens_.

Flipping through the pages to skim for the Grim, Winona shuddered at the graphic depiction of a ghastly black dog, mauling a grown wizard like he was a chewtoy. No more _Death, Darkness, and Delusions: A Diviner's Guide to Destiny_ for her.

After a good half hour reading ridiculously melodramatic interpretations of tea dregs, it was the last book, _Grim Ways to See the Grim: A Book of Bad Omens_ , that Winona was perusing, trying to connect a lightning bolt with a Grim. Perhaps her first instinct was wrong, Winona thought. Maybe it actually meant something else, like when lightning strikes a Grim shall appear. Or a lightning bolt would bring inevitable death and doom. Or even a lightning bolt striking would bring both death and the Grim!

Truth be told, none of the other options seemed as plausible compared to her initial instinct of Harry Potter being in grave danger. Wasn't Harry Potter _always_ in grave danger, anyways? Last year, he was attacked by Dementors. And the year before that, he was the Heir of Slytherin during the slew of petrifications.

Maybe Winona was just being redundant when she saw that prophecy.

No, that can't be right. What other meaning could a lightning bolt hold than a symbol for Harry Potter himself? In the text, it stated that "if seen at the bottom of the cup and with a clear space indicating water, it would mean bad storms abroad causing damage and loss". Combined with the famed Grim of death, that would equate to death, damage, and loss. What a horrible thought!

Oh Merlin, Winona was sacrificing her carefully-manicured, studious Ravenclaw persona to tell _Harry Potter_ that he was in danger because she Saw it in a cup of Darjeeling tea. But Winona had to warn Harry Potter, no matter how barmy she may seem. Even if she was brushed off by Potter and his friends, at least he would _know_!

Thusly determined, Winona slammed the _Bad Omens_ textbook shut, shoved it into her book bag, and went to Mrs. Pince to check it out.

"I'd like to check this one out, please."

Madam Pince peered at Winona over the table counter, glaring down her haughty nose to sternly lock eyes with Winona. Winona did not shrink nor shiver, and stood tall. If this was a test of courage, then it would only be the first one Winona would have to endure.

After what seemed like eons of silence, a moment stretched out to its very last dredges of life, Madam Pince harrumphed and proceeded to hand Winona back the textbook.

"By now you should very well know the procedures of this library. But as a refresher, if you rip, tear, shred, bend, fold, deface, disfigure, smear, smudge, throw, drop, or in any other manner damage, mistreat, or show lack of respect towards this book, the consequences will be as _awful_ as it is within my power to make them."

Winona quickly muttered a small "Yes, Madam Pince" and hurried away. Once she was safely out of the library, she rolled her eyes. Madam Pince probably said that every single time someone checked out a book from the library (this conclusion made by the numerous instances Winona herself checked out a book, be it for studying or other purposes, and how Madam Pince made sure to spit her spiel each and every time).

Winona was sure Madam Pince hated every single Hogwarts student equally - the Ravenclaws for checking out too many books, the Gryffindors for being too rowdy, the Hufflepuffs for both their inane cheer and often clumsiness, and the Slytherins just because.

Winona came to the startling conclusion that many people at Hogwarts hated the Slytherins just because. She arrived right at the conclusion's doorstep, waited for a while, pondered on ringing the doorbell and exploring the glass house further, and then decided to leave. Winona was fine with the status quo.

What she wasn't fine with was the fact that she had seen a Grim in her teacup, right next to a lightning bolt. Plain as day, it was clear.

It was also made clearer by the multiple books she had pulled down from the Divination section that wailed about the never-ending death and despair a Grim brings to its surroundings. Yes, thank you, she got the message the fourth time around. At least _Bad Omens_ was straight to the point about the gory ends to the inauspicious and unfortunate. People like Harry Potter.

Well, it wasn't any of her business if it didn't affect Winona directly. It wasn't like she cared. Winona was above caring.

Caring was beneath her. Winona didn't care.

* * *

Winona stuffed her blueberry muffin into her mouth, set her shoulders, and exhaled loudly. She was going to tell him today. This morning. In the next minute. She was going to get up from her spot at the Ravenclaw table. She was going to walk across the Great Hall. She was going to - oh, Merlin. Winona glanced over to the Gryffindor table, her eyes set on Harry Potter's trio of friends, raucously laughing over breakfast. The tall one, Weasley, was almost - but not quite - blocking her line of sight with Harry Potter. And the smart one, Granger, who definitely should've been a Ravenclaw, hefted up what seemed to be _Hogwarts: A History_ onto the wooden table.

Actually, thank Merlin Granger wasn't a Ravenclaw. Winona would hate for her ranking to be bumped one more place down the all-year Ravenclaw listings that the prefects meticulously kept updated weekly in the Common Room. And don't even start on the school-wide listings. The last time she glanced over at that horrific parchment was last Christmas, and she had just lost a bet to who would be tied for first by holiday break. Percy Weasley had only dropped down to 17th a week _after_ Winona lost half a Galleon.

"Winona? Should I even ask this time?" A voice startled Winona from her reverie on Percy Weasley's completely uncalled for intelligence.

"No." Winona sorted through her thoughts to try and snatch up an unassuming reply, having realized that, while effective, shutting down her classmate's attempt at small talk was not polite behavior in the slightest. "It's just. Why do the professors never release test scores until the middle of the holidays? What are they doing over there that has Granger in a fit?"

"You're telling me you've been staring at Potter and his lot for the last minute because of the Granger-Weasley tension that's been a running gag?"

Winona finally peeled her eyes away from the squabbling trio in order to lock eyes with her classmate. Blond hair, brown eyes, pubescent voice. Or was he speaking so lowly because he feared the inevitable crack belying his changing voice? Going through puberty or not, this person seemed to know Winona, but Winona had no idea who he was. Did he sit behind her in Potions?

"Right, exactly. I'm just fascinated by our very own school celebrity, don't mind me."

Snickering to himself, Winona's nameless classmate turned away and muttered something to his friend. Strange guy.

Winona shook her head slightly and renewed her determination. _Don't be selfish and cowardly. He's in danger, for Merlin's sake, you can't just let this go._ Winona set her shoulders, grabbed another muffin, and rose from her seat. Breakfast was almost over, anyways, and maybe she could catch Harry Potter on his way out without his friends.

Tracking the Gryffindor trio only by Weasley's distinctive ginger hair, Winona increased her pace through the Great Hall to try and intercept the three before they went off to who knows where. (Actually, said a voice in the back of Winona's head, not at all mocking, don't the fourth year Gryffindors have Transfiguration on Thursdays?)

She actually did catch up to the three right outside the Great Hall, but didn't quite know how to start a conversation with Harry Potter without seeming like a rabid groupie. Winona wanted them to take her words seriously, and stuttering or blushing too much would make her seem like a girl with a crush instead of a girl with an omen.

Making up her mind, and silently willing her hands to stop shaking, Winona briskly marched over and caught their attention.

"Ron, honestly, I don't understand why you insist on doing these things…." Granger, the smart one, trailed off as she noticed Winona's approach.

"Granger, Weasley. Potter. Sorry for this, uh, rather abrupt interruption of your discussion, but I have something to say."

"Great, Harry, it's Ginny all over again."

Winona shot Weasley a quelling glance. She didn't know what that meant, but she could guess that it wasn't something particularly nice of him to say.

"Ron, shut up!" Granger scolded the outspoken ginger quite efficiently, and looked over at Potter.

Before anyone could speak and stop her, Winona spoke up before she could get cold feet and just run down the hall and go back to her dorm.

"I know Trelawney's a hack, but when I was in her Monday class looking at tea leaves, I Saw a lightning bolt and a Grim." Winona nodded decisively, gaining confidence as she went, oblivious to Weasley's shock at the word Grim and Harry Potter's growing grin, "and Divination's rubbish, anyways, but I figure that you might need as much luck as you can get, Potter."

"Oi, you don't think it's serious, do you?" Weasley whispered, but far too loudly to be subtle. Winona squinted at the three. This was not the reaction she expected to get. Winona expected wary suspicion and caution, not budding excitement.

Before Potter could whisper back, Winona cut in. "Of course it's serious, Weasley, it's the Grim." For some reason, this made Weasley burst into laughter, and even Potter couldn't hold back his grin. Granger just groaned.

"You guys are weird." Winona cleared her throat, deciding to ignore their eccentricities and Weasley's grumbles. "So I was in the Library yesterday, researching the meaning of the possible combination outside the obvious," Winona's eyes momentarily flicked up towards Harry Potter's infamous scar, "and after cross-referencing many dubious sources on Divination, it seems they all agree that a lightning bolt and a Grim signify death, danger, and loss. At the very least."

Potter snorted, his hands flying up to mess with his hair and cover his forehead. "Sounds like my cup of tea." The pun didn't escape Winona's notice, and her mouth betrayed her begrudging amusement.

"Harry, that was horrible!" Granger was stifling her smile, too.

"Well, be it Earl Grey or metaphorical, I doubt this cup of tea presents any real threat to you. Unless you're signing up for the Triwizard Tournament anytime soon, because if so, you'd be dead stupid and in danger either way." The Triwizard Tournament was still all that anyone would speak about, ever since Headmaster Dumbledore's speech about it back at the start of the term. Winona, personally, was of the opinion that the Triwizard Tournament sounded like a chore, and anyone who signed up for it was monumentally idiotic.

"Well, thanks for the warning…"

"Winona."

"Winona. I really appreciate it, but I think I'll be fine. I'm not old enough to participate in the Tournament anyways," said Harry Potter, who smiled at her for a bit before turning around and walking back towards where Granger and Weasley had - in the last minute, somehow - broken off from their little gathering.

Winona sighed. While she thought that she didn't exactly make a stellar first impression, she also thought that it was incredibly unlikely that she would ever see the three again face-to-face, so it didn't really matter. She stood there for a while, in the empty corridor outside the Great Hall. A few students trickled in and out, but it was still early yet. Classes didn't start for another hour or so. The sunlight streamed in through the open doors of the hall. Winona could hear the mindless chatter of her fellow Hogwarts students from outside the Great Hall, and she sighed again.

Turning on her heel, Winona slowly made her way to the Library. She wanted to finish her Charms essay on the practical applications of the Lumos Duo spell versus the standard Lumos before the weekend.

* * *

 _published Aug. 5th, 2017_

 _i have the inexplicable need to avoid writing dialogue at all costs. i don't even know if i write people in-character or not. send help_


End file.
